


one breath, i'll break

by MusicPrincess655



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Established Relationship, M/M, Marking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicPrincess655/pseuds/MusicPrincess655
Summary: Prompto pays special attention to Noct's scar
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	one breath, i'll break

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been a WIP on my computer for almost a year, and I just wanted to move it out. I'm trying to start writing again after an extended hiatus, so this probably isn't the best, but I'm trying!

It all starts, like most things in Prompto’s life, with him royally fucking up.

“Son of a motherfucking _bitch-_ ” He cuts off the rest of the choice words waiting on his tongue. Ignis will scold him for language.

“Come now, under the water,” Ignis says, brisk but not unkind, dragging Prompto’s hand away from his chest and into the sink. Prompto hisses when the water hits the cut. It stings like a _bitch._ “Hold it there a moment. I’ll be right back.”

“Smooth moves,” Noct says, leaning over the counter to get a better look at Prompto’s hand. “Really classy.”

“Shut up,” Prompto complains. “It was an accident.”

“Yes, I too often attempt to grab knives by the pointy end. On accident.”

“It was just instinct!” Prompto shoots back. “I was aiming for the handle.”

“Maybe I should worry about your aim, then.”

The banter actually is making him feel a little better, which was probably Noct’s goal. Then again, Prompto’s probably calming down because when he first yelled, Noct went all stiff and worried, and if Noct was worried, it only made Prompto more worried, and the banter comes with Noct’s body language relaxing again. 

Considering everyone around him doesn’t seem all that concerned, Prompto feels a little better taking a deep breath and calming down. Not _all_ the way down – the water is still running a little red – but it no longer feels like he’s about to die. Panic is a funny thing like that.

He’d been helping Ignis in the kitchen, chopping vegetables while Ignis supervised pots on the stove, and he’d just looked up to make a crack at Noct about having to eat the vegetables when his hand had slipped. In hindsight, he should’ve just let the knife drop to the floor, washed it off and kept going, but on impulse, he’d grabbed for the handle and missed by a good two inches.

And now he’s holding his bleeding hand in a sink.

“If you have time to tease him, you have time to get me a clean towel,” Ignis says, coming back into the kitchen with a first aid kit that looks a lot more like a medical bag. Like, a professional medical bag. The kind emergency responders have.

“Yeah, fine,” Noct says, pulling a clean towel out of a drawer and tossing it to Ignis. A clean, _white_ towel.

“No, wait…” Prompto tries to protest, but Ignis has already pulled his hand out of the water and wrapped it in the towel. “It’ll stain.”

“Nothing a good round of bleach can’t fix,” Ignis says absently, applying pressure to Prompto’s hand. Prompto gives him a _look,_ because he’s been doing his own laundry for years and he’s well aware that bloodstains _do not come out of white fabric._ “I’d rather make sure you’re cleaned up.”

“Look on the bright side,” Noct says. “At least it’s your left hand. No dry spells for you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be for?” Prompto asks.

He’s still not _entirely_ comfortable making sex jokes in front of Ignis, but after that one time Ignis decided embarrassing the ever-loving _fuck_ out of Gladio was more important than his sense of propriety, Prompto figures he’s allowed to make passing reference to the fact that Noct’s touched his dick.

“Nah, you’re on your own,” Noct says.

“I don’t know why I even date you,” Prompto complains. “Since apparently it’s not for your handjobs.”

“You _should_ date me for my handjobs,” Noct says. “They’re fantastic.”

“Boys,” Ignis interrupts before Prompto can make a comment about the quality of Noct’s handjobs (they _are_ fantastic, but Prompto can’t let him _know_ that). “Prompto, I’m assuming you don’t wish to go to a hospital?”

Prompto thinks about sterile white hallways and the smell of disinfectant and pages-long medical bills and gulps.

“No,” he says softly.

“Very well,” Ignis says, the disapproval in his voice mild at worst. “To the table, then. You should sit down for this.”

Prompto expects Ignis to break out the butterfly bandages – he really _should_ get stitches, he knows it – but instead Ignis opens that professional medical bag and pulls out a suture kit and a syringe.

“Uh,” he says intelligently.

“The anesthetic might sting a bit, but it’ll make the stitches go in easier,” Ignis says, like that was what Prompto was objecting to. “Hold still now.”

“This is…significantly beyond the scope of what I thought an advisor did,” Prompto says weakly. “I really hope your pay rate is higher than I originally thought.”

“Oh, this isn’t in the usual scope of a royal advisor,” Ignis says. “I have advanced medical training.”

“Because you weren’t killing it enough in every other field?” Prompto asks. Ignis flicks his eyes to Noct, the tiniest movement, but significant in that Ignis very rarely asks Noct for permission.

Prompto turns to Noct, tilting his head in silent question. Noct pretends he doesn’t know what Ignis is talking about for all of five seconds – no one believes him – before he sighs.

“So I might, technically, have a bit of a disability,” he says. “Kinda.”

“There’s nothing _technical_ about it,” Ignis says, voice clipped. He’s perfectly capable of keeping up a calm conversation while stitching Prompto back together, apparently. “You experience both chronic pain and fatigue. You have to favor one side when you run. Gladio even had to adjust your training to work around your injuries. You have a disability.”

“No one asked, Specs,” Noct grumbles, looking away. He rubs the back of his neck, and for the first time Prompto wonders if that’s not a nervous habit like it is with other people. Wonders if, instead, it’s Noct reaching for his scar.

“I didn’t know that,” Prompto says. He’s part of Noct’s Crownsguard, sure, but here in Insomnia, the title feels a lot more like just a title, and he’s never seen Noct fight for real. Just in training, just against Gladio, and of course Gladio would know about Noct’s injuries and wouldn’t try to hurt him for real.

“It’s not a big deal,” Noct says.

“You have chronic pain?”

“It’s not as bad as that,” Noct dismisses. “My back just kinda hurts sometimes, and my knee is stiff.”

Which, coming from Noct, means it’s a much more constant problem than he wants Prompto to believe. For someone who can be such a brat, Noct spends plenty of time hiding his pain until it explodes out of him, bottling up what he feels. Prompto feels bad, of course, that he never noticed, but he’s not exactly surprised.

He’s seen Noct’s scar before, but he’s never taken a close look. Noct gets a little squirmy whenever someone looks at his back, and hey, Prompto has parts of his body he doesn’t want anyone to see; he gets it.

Would Noct let him look, if he asks?

Ignis finishes stitching him up and leaves him with strict instructions to keep the stitches dry and clean. Prompto takes it to mean he shouldn’t use his left hand for much of anything for a few weeks and promises to be good. Ignis gives him a hard side-eye, like he’s not sure he quite believes Prompto, but lets it go and takes his leave.

It’s late enough that Prompto decides he’s staying at Noct’s apartment. It’s been an increasingly regular occurrence since they graduated high school, especially since Prompto joined the Crownsguard. Prompto should probably give up on paying rent on the shitty studio apartment he’s had since he turned eighteen, considering how often he stays with Noct. He’s practically moved in, anyway.

“Hey,” he starts, and swallows his nerves. “I’m gonna ask for something, and you can say no and it won’t hurt my feelings.”

“For the last time, I don’t think we can fit a chocobo in here,” Noct says, but he seems to realize that Prompto’s being serious.

“Can I see your scar?”

“You’ve seen it before,” Noct hedges. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

“Remember the part where you can say no and it won’t hurt my feelings?”

“It’s not…” Noct sighs. “Why do you even want to see?”

“It’s part of you,” Prompto shrugs. He doesn’t really know how to quantify the feeling in his chest, suddenly realizing that Noct has kept Prompto from knowing about such a fundamental weakness through years of friendship and dating. It doesn’t feel like mistrust, exactly, but if Noct’s willing to let him, Prompto wants to see every part.

“You have parts you don’t want me to see.”

“That’s why it won’t hurt my feelings if you say no.”

Noct hesitates for another moment, and Prompto prepares himself to be supportive when Noct inevitably says no. Then Noct sighs and pulls his shirt off.

His scar looks like a bolt of lightning. It’s what Prompto’s always thought, the few times he’s seen it in passing. It crackles and arches down Noct’s back, curving around his spine. Prompto wants his hands all over it, and he only just remembers himself as he’s reaching out.

“Can I touch it?”

Noct doesn’t exactly stiffen, but he does go still.

“It’s…not right on it,” Noct says slowly. “It hurts if you press.”

“Okay.”

Prompto trails light fingertips around the edges of the scar. The skin surrounding it isn’t red with inflammation, not so many years after the injury, but the scar itself is in stark contrast to Noct’s pale skin. Noct shifts under his touch, wiggling himself side to side.

“Bad?” Prompto asks, lifting his fingers off.

“Weird,” Noct says. “Not _bad_ weird, just. Weird.”

“Want me to stop?” Prompto is, frankly, shocked Noct’s let him go this long, but Noct shakes his head.

“It’s like I can barely feel it,” he says. “Around the scar is almost dead.”

Prompto hums, tracing around the edge all the way down Noct’s back and back up the other side. Noct shudders when Prompto gets down to his lower back, arching to chase Prompto’s hand, and they’ve been dating plenty long for Prompto to know what _that_ means.

He leans forward, pressing his lips to the curve where Noct’s neck meets his shoulder and earning himself another shudder. Noct is barely taller than him, just enough that it’s comfortable for Prompto to rest his mouth right here.

“Wanna lay down?” he asks, voice softer and lower than before.

Noct nods, letting out a shaky breath, and moves to his bed, dropping his pants as he goes. He lays on his stomach, tucking his arms up under his pillow, and looks at Prompto over his shoulder.

Something tight twists in Prompto’s gut. Neither of them is particularly good with vulnerability. It’s a skill they’ve had to learn with each other, the only way to make such a longstanding friendship work. The trust in Noct’s eyes makes part of Prompto want to cry.

He shakes it off and follows to straddle Noct’s hips, snapping the waistband of his boxers just to chase away the lingering heaviness that settled on the mood. At Noct’s complaint, he soothes his hands over the spot, an apology he doesn’t really mean because he can hear the smile Noct’s hiding, and traces them back up the sides of Noct’s scar.

“How do you feel about leaving marks?” Prompto asks, pressing harder on the unmarked skin of Noct’s ribs.

“On the scar?” Noct asks, hesitation obvious.

“You already said no to anything on the scar,” Prompto says. “I meant anywhere else.”

Any visible marks are usually a hard no from Noct. He doesn’t have much against them personally, but their relationship has never really been just them. They’re an open secret to everyone who matters, but Prompto doesn’t get to be possessive with the crown prince of Lucis. A part of him wishes they could be just like any couple, uncaring of how anyone else looks at their love, the way Noct gets to be, the way he used to send Prompto to school with bruises on his throat because he’s a brat, but Prompto wouldn’t change the two of them. The relationship they have is due to the past that built them, and he generally likes them.

“Okay,” Noct says. “Nothing visible.”

“Got it.”

It’s all the permission Prompto needs to drop his lips to Noct’s exposed ribs and suck an enthusiastic bruise in the shape of his mouth. Noct kicks his hips up, but Prompto was ready for that and keeps his seat on Noct’s ass. He lifts off after another few moments, flushing with pride at the red mark left behind. No one else will ever see it, but Prompto is still the only one that gets to see Noct like this.

He loses himself a bit to the act of sucking marks into Noct’s back, carefully avoiding all the branching paths of his scar. Noct doesn’t tell him to stop, shifting softly under Prompto, but none of the sounds he makes are of pain. Not that he wouldn’t bitch Prompto out for hurting him, because they’ve known each other too long to do anything different. Still, when Prompto pulls back to admire his work, the marks so much darker than the scar, he realizes he should have checked in with Noct earlier.

Noct is rhythmically rolling his hips down into the bed, his pants coming out as the softest moans. There’s the tiniest tremor to his arms that lets Prompto know he’s been like this for a while.

“Noct,” Prompto says, dropping a hand to Noct’s moving hip to feel the muscle flex under his fingers. “Do you want me to-?”

“Yes,” Noct grits out.

“Do you want me to top or-?”

“Fuck _me,_ ” Noct complains, because he might be an adult but he’s no less a brat than when they were kids.

“Okay!”

Prompto scrambles for the lube and condoms Noct keeps in his bedside table and, like every other time they do this, patently ignores that Ignis cleans this room and absolutely knows these are here. By the time he gets back, Noct has already shucked his boxers off, the long line of his body beautiful and unbroken. Even for all the times he’s seen it, Noct still takes Prompto’s breath away.

“How are you still wearing clothes?” Noct whines. Prompto looks down. He’s straining in his pants and still fully clothed. He’s still wearing _socks._

“Was more focused on you,” he mutters, stripping his shirt over his head and pushing his pants down, kicking his socks off with them.

He settles between Noct’s legs and pours lube all over his fingers. After it’s warmed up, he trails his fingers down the dip of Noct’s spine to circle around his entrance. The first time they did this, it felt like hours of teasing here before Prompto was ready to slip a finger inside, but now he knows Noct’s body, knows he doesn’t have to treat Noct like glass even if he deserves care. It’s not long before he has two fingers in, scissoring Noct open.

“I bet the real reason you want to bottom is so you don’t have to do any work,” Prompto says, watching with fascination as Noct rolls down to meet his fingers.

“You’re the one willing to do all the work,” Noct shoots back.

It’s not that Noct doesn’t top, because he does all the time. Prompto just had some internalized bullshit before they started sleeping together and assumed Noct would be topping all the time. But no matter who they are outside this room, Noct has never treated him as anything but an equal when they’re together, and that’s the real reason Prompto likes switching back and forth so much.

“Prompto,” Noct gasps. “I’m good.”

“Kay.”

Prompto opens the condom with slippery fingers and rolls it on, breath shaky as he gives himself a few strokes with the lube. It’s the first time he’s touched himself tonight and it _shows._

He leans forward until he’s pushing into Noct, slowly sliding past resistance, giving Noct plenty of time to adjust as he bottoms out. He presses his lips to the back of Noct’s shoulder and waits, enjoying the tight heat around him. He likes this part, where they first come together and fall into rhythm with each other.

“Move,” Noct commands, shifting his hips, and Prompto complies.

He tilts Noct’s hips up, not pulling him up onto his knees but putting a sharper arc into his lower back, and starts thrusting in steadily. He’s in no hurry and Noct isn’t desperate enough to demand a different pace. Noct makes soft sounds in response, rolling his hips in time with Prompto, and they rock together.

Noct’s orgasm almost takes him by surprise, but Prompto’s been unintentionally edging him for longer than he’s been keeping track of, so it’s not a shock he didn’t last all that long. Prompto stays in for as long as Noct will let him before he pulls out, jerking himself off into the condom with the sight of Noct’s marked-up back to push him along.

Prompto lets himself fall to Noct’s side, tucking his face into the crook of Noct’s neck for more kisses. Noct’s eyes flutter, close to knocking out completely. Prompto smiles into his skin. Sex isn’t a competition, but if it was, this round would go to Prompto. Noct looks so content and relaxed and Prompto preens about it.

“I can feel how smug you are,” Noct complains.

“Thank you for trusting me with this,” Prompto says, trailing his finger over a few of the marks he’s left on Noct’s back.

“Not like that’s news,” Noct says, just the faintest blush in his cheeks. He’s so close to falling asleep that he can’t muster true embarrassment.

“Still. Thank you.”

Noct’s breathing evens out, and Prompto lulls himself into something like a trance watching the rise and fall of his back. It’s hypnotic, intimate in a way Prompto never knew people could be, nothing sexual anymore about their proximity and yet almost heartbreaking in all it means to him. Prompto presses himself closer, enough that he can hear Noct’s heartbeat under his ear, and lets it soothe him until he’s finally pulled under with Noct, too tired even to dream.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: [ musicprincess655 ](http://musicprincess655.tumblr.com/)


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